Forgotten
by Ginga-Ail1994
Summary: Harry, Ron and the rest of Hermione's friends appear to have forgotten her birthday. Takes place in year four. Some mild language. Romione elements.


_**Forgotten**_

Forgotten

Monday, September 19, 1994

"Welcome back, Witches and wizards, to the second half of Love Potion, the game show where contestants could very well end up with the person of their dreams!"  
The audience cheered with gay abandon – fireworks sparked from wands, wolf whistles and cat-calls rippled through the crowd. The commentator nodded reverently along with the audience, rousing them on with his right hand as the other held his wand to his face, using the Sonorus charm to amplify his voice. "Yes, I wonder who will be lucky tonight? Now, onto our next contestant, Miss Hermione Jean Granger!" The crowd went ballistic, poppers zinged and confetti was flicked onto the stage. Blushing, Hermione smiled bashfully, staring at her shoes. Voices that sounded curiously like Fred and George's chanted "'Mione! 'Mione! 'Mione!" over the pops and bangs.  
After everyone had calmed down, the commentator smiled at the girl behind the podium, "tell us a bit about yourself, Miss Granger!"  
Turning crimson as a Weasley's hair, Hermione shuffled slightly, "Um, well, I'm in fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my parents are both Muggle dentists, and –" she faltered, then realized it was best not to mention that her school was holding the Tri-Wizard Tournament that year, blurted out "and I'm single!" More catcalls and howling ensued.  
"Fantastic! Now, time to introduce our four young wizards, one of whom you'll take home tonight!" the commentator flashed a smile of platinum white teeth, and pointed his wand to the purple, velveteen curtain, which drew back, revealing four standing doors with quotation marks painted on them in white. "First out, we have Mister Viktor Krum, seeker of the Bulgarian quidditch team!" The first door swung open, showing Krum, dressed in his Seeker uniform, holding his broomstick with pride. He raised his thick eyebrows at Hermione, and gave a smile. Hermione looked shyly away – Krum was her celebrity crush, he'd never like her, surely? After all, he was so fit, and successful - and don't get her started on that accent!

Next, we have Mr Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived!" Harry strutted from his doorframe, wearing, for some reason, one of his Weasley Christmas sweaters. Surprised, Hermione gave him a look as if to ask "what are you doing here" As if reading her mind, Harry shrugged and laughed airily, rubbing his hand through his mop of black hair. Both he and Hermione knew where they stood – they regarded each other as brother and sister – no way was he going to be Hermione's date!  
Next out was Cedric Diggory, captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team. His hair was combed back neatly; his Prefect badge gleamed on his blazer. Now, Cedric was extremely handsome – he had chiselled features, a lovely smile and he was very kind, and charming, too! Anyone would think him perfect, and to be honest he was! But, even though Hermione did admire him, he seemed almost too perfect for her. He flashed a set of perfect white teeth in her direction, resulting in a shy, fleeting smile.

"And now, for our final contestant, Ronald Billius Weasley! His father works at the Ministry of Magic, and his mother is well known for her Christmas sweaters and quick temper! Ronald himself is tall, ginger and a goofball of the highest degree!"  
And out came Ron, ginger hair and gangly legs galore. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a Chudley Cannons jersey. He flashed a crooked grin at Hermione, and nodded, blushing to the very tips of his ears.  
Suddenly, Hermione's vision went blurry, like water being infused with tea, the last thing she heard was the commentator speaking, in a hazy, echoic voice, "who do you choose, then?"  
Before she had time to respond, she felt a rough sensation on her face, and the commentator's voice was replaced with deep rumbles. The last thing she saw was Ron's eyes; the colour of the sea on a strange day of sun and cloud.  
***

Straining her eyes against the thick sleep that glued them shut, Hermione gazed dazedly around the Gryffindor Girl's dorms in a groggy fashion. Frustrated, she batted away Crookshanks, who had been sitting on her chest, licking her face. Irked, the tatty ginger cat gave an irritated meow, and retaliated by turning to sit on his owner's face. "Crookshanks!" Hermione scolded in a tense whisper, not wanting to wake Pavrati and Lavender, hooking her forearm around the cat's midriff, and casting him on the ground. Crookshanks, feeling rather insulted, crawled under Hermione's nightstand, making a noise that sounded like indignant grumbling. Checking her alarm clock, Hermione swung her legs from under the gold and red quilt, landing feet first in aptly placed slippers. Pavrati and Lavender's beds happened to be empty, their duvets like ambiguous crimson masses of indistinct nature. Hermione had learnt in first year that her dorm mates did not like their beds being made, so she quelled her impulsive instincts and with a flick of her wrist performed a charm which folded her own bedspread evenly and without creases, with her pillows propped up atop one another against the headboard. Pleased with herself, she proceeded in getting ready to face the day in her jovial manner. Today, she was happier than usual, for it was her fifteenth birthday! She hummed aimlessly to herself as she dressed in her robes and tottered to the Gryffindor common room.

The only people in the common room were Ginny and Neville. Neville was helping the red-headed girl on a particularly hard Herbology question when Hermione skipped over with a chirpy "good morning!" The pair, having been so busy that they hadn't even noticed Hermione come downstairs, jumped in shock – typically, Neville dropped his ginormous Herbology book on his bare feet. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, rubbing his bruised toe. Ginny burst out laughing, turning red in the face, even Hermione stifled a giggle, despite herself. "Is that the way you repay your friend for helping you on your overdue homework, Ginny Weasley?" Neville stammered, unsure of his comeback and its effectiveness, his lack of attitude only making the girls laugh harder. Neville blushed, but saw the funny side, and reached for the book, "you have any more questions on that, then?" Ginny shook her head, "no Neville, thanks for helping me." Nodding brusquely, Neville headed for the House Door, "always there to help with herbology, see you at breakfast!" When she was sure Neville was out of earshot, Ginny let out another peal of laughter, "he's gas, Neville is!" Hermione smiled, "he'll toughen up yet, I reckon, he is a Gryffindor after all – he will show strength at some stage." Rolling her eyes, Ginny stood up and packed away her parchment and quills, "honestly, Hermione, you should take up Divination again – you seem to have a bit of the psychic in you! " Hermione shoved her friend playfully, and the two headed off to the Great Hall for some breakfast before classes started.

The pair were chatting away gaily, about how weird Snape was and what shampoo he should use, expressing qualms over the dangers of the impending Tournament, and something new to the both of them – boys. Rating the boys of Gryffindor house, and of course, the other houses too – how gorgeous Cedric's hair looked, how Seamus Finnegan had really grown into himself. "Dean Thomas is looking rather fit, isn't he? And Harry –"Ginny blushed deeply (Hermione blushed for her), "-well, he's just lovely. Pity he's so clueless though. How about you Hermione? Had your eyes on anyone lately?" Laughing, Hermione shook her head, and hoped her smirk wasn't too revealing; Ginny may be her best female friend, but she wasn't quite sure if she would handle Hermione's growing feelings towards her older brother yet. Ginny raised her eyebrow sarcastically, as if she knew Hermione was hiding a deep, dark secret, then her brows furrowed in confusion. "I feel as if I'm forgetting something," she mused, tapping her right foot on the cobblestone, "what date is it, Hermione?" Heart sinking like a stone, Hermione bit her lower lip, trying to hide her disappointment – Ginny had forgotten her birthday. Normally, Hermione wouldn't care about such trivial things, but still it stung like a nettle borne wound. Still, she answered "the nineteenth, a Mond-"Ginny cut her short, pulling out her wand, and recited a spell Hermione had taught her only recently – "accio, gift!" A few minutes later, though an open window flew a neatly wrapped parcel with silver wrapping and gold trim, charmed so it literally sparkled in the autumn sun that shone through the stain glass windows. Ginny grabbed the parcel before it flew into the alarmed suit of armour behind her, who was shielding his face with his creaky arms. Looking ashamed with herself, she passed the gift to Hermione, "I almost forgot! I'm so sorry – you must think me for a fool!" smiling tentatively, Hermione took the present from her friend's hands, scolding herself for thinking harshly on her – how selfish was she to even presume that Ginny would forget her birthday? "Don't worry about it, Gin, it's really early – and we haven't even had breakfast yet! I'll open it later. Thanks so much!" she hugged Ginny hard, and put her present into her schoolbag, still feeling a tad bit foolish at her initial reaction.

Ginny went to say good morning to Fred and George, while Hermione sat across from Ron and Harry with a bowl of cereal. Harry was pouring over Defence Against the Dark Arts notes for the class test that day (last minute, no doubt!), with a look of panic on his face – and no wonder, Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody was a very strict, and equally bizarre, professor. Harry looked up from his tattered, note strewn parchment just long enough to acknowledge Hermione's existence, "Morning, can't talk much, didn't study." He took a sup of tea and slouched over his papers again, rubbing his hand through his shaggy dog hair. Ron, who was too busy stuffing a bacon butty the size of "Hogwarts: A History" into his mouth, didn't even glance at the girl who was staring at him with a look of astonishment and disgust – how could one person eat such a big sandwich in such a short space of time? He was nearly finished after only two huge chomps! Munching, he stared over his best friend's shoulder, who absentmindedly brushed the crumbs spraying from Ron's mouth off his robes, as if he'd done it a million times before. "Watcha readin'? Ah, don' worry 'bout dat *chew chew, swallow!* it will be like easy – sure it's only a class test mate, how bad can he be about it? Mind you, I don't trust him though – he seems pretty dodgy with that spaggy eye of his," he took a swig of orange juice. Hermione rolled her eyes – typical, clueless Ron. "Honestly Ronald, do you not recall? Moody said this test counts for ten percent of our final mark! Oh and don't speak with your mouth full! It's positively vile!" Turning red at the ears, Ron looked at Hermione for the first time that morning – her heart skipped a beat, as always, when she looked into his temperate ocean eyes. She turned her eyes to focus on the salt and pepper shakers. "Who rattled your cage, 'Mione? Why d'you have to be so picky about my eating habits? You need some food in you anyway – you're like a broomstick! Maybe I should tell you off for speaking all prim and proper and eating like a bird?" Hermione was very taken aback – she was used to little quarrels, and even huge squabbles, between herself and Ron about a number of things – some heated, others light-hearted, and quite a few very serious that took a few days to get over. But this tone seemed new – he sounded bitter, not at her, but for some indiscernible reason. He was cold, disconnected, and very rude. Anger bubbled up inside her – how could he? Today of all days?! Granted she had been nitpicking at faults that barely existed, but need he have spoken to her in such an unfeeling tone on her birthday? Stunned, she stared at the Rice Krispies on the table in front of her, watching them bob around like puffy boats on a sea of milk, popping and crackling like some of Fred and George's inventions. "Ron," she mused, swirling the softening cereal with her spoon, "what day is it today?"  
Ron looked at her dumbfound idly. "What type of stupid question is that? It's Monday, 'Mionie! I thought a smart girl like you would remember the days of the week!" the words were like a slap in the face, Hermione's eyes filled with salty tears, "Harry? Do you know what day it is?" Without looking up from his work, Harry answered "I believe Ron already told you. Sorry, Hermione, I'm busy right now, trying to concentrate you know?"  
Hermione couldn't understand it – why were her two best friends being so nasty to her today of all days? She could hear Ginny laughing at one of Fred's jokes, so she couldn't stick up for her – because, for once, she couldn't stick up for herself. Suddenly, a shrill shriek sounded from the rafters, and in flew the owls with the daily post! Hermione's spirit's lifted; surely her parents remembered her special day? All the owls passed through, dropping parcels here, and letters there. Hermione kept her eyes peeled for an owl heading in her direction. Sure enough, a large, tawny owl dropped a small envelope into her cereal. Using a spell to dry it, Hermione opened the letter with shaking hands:

 _Dearest Hermione;_ _  
_ _Sadly, we have forgotten to send your gift; we both lost our heads this weekend, as we were up to our teeth (pardon the pun!) in dental surgeries and the like. I should have sent it Saturday, as it is much too heavy for an owl to carry in one night – I did not want you to think we had completely forgotten you, dear, so I sent a note instead. It is a short one, I'm afraid, as your father and I both have root canal appointments! A dentist's life is never dull!_ _  
_ _Happy birthday, darling, and I assure you you'll have your gift by the end of the week._ _  
_ _Mom._

This was too much for Hermione. Her own parents, so absorbed in work. Harry, studying. Ron, being more of an arrogant wart than usual. What was going on? Why today? Did she do something wrong?  
Standing up so quickly that the legs of her chair scraped off the floor, Hermione gathered her schoolbag and said that she had to do last minute studying for Moody's test herself, and that she would be in the library until class started. With that, she turned on her heel, and walked as fast as she could to the door. As she exited, she was almost certain she heard Ron half call out her name in exasperation, only to be shushed harshly by Harry, but the blood pounding in her ears made all other noises seem like a radio without signal.

As she walked to the library, trying her best not to cry, her head down, chin tucked into her chest as she hugged her books close to her for solace, Hermione could not help but be reminded of the time regarding the troll back in first year. How horrible Ron had been, and yet how he knocked out the troll with his own club. And how Harry rode on the troll's beefy shoulders! Thinking about it now, the two had seemed rather ridiculous, throwing pieces of toilet and wood at the dumb beast, sticking wands up his nose as a distraction and so on. It was then, that Hermione had grown to realise that brains were not the only good quality; there was loyalty and bravery too. She had made her two first best friends that night, and had become more open-minded and accepting in retrospect – particularly of Ron, who showed that night how mature and kind-hearted he could be.

Pondering her lessons learnt that night, Hermione was floored when she walked face first into what seemed like a huge, furry wall. "Watch wer' yer goin, Hermione! Ye could've knock'd inta somethin' harder den me!" the kind, booming drawl belonged to Hagrid, who bent down with ease and picked up Hermione's books with one hand – they were so small in his fist that they looked like pamphlets – and handed them back to her. "Der ye go, now. Wher ye goin' in such a hurry, anyways? Class don't star' fer another ho- say, are ye alri'?" Only aware now of her waterfall of a nose and fountain like eyes, Hermione rooted through her schoolbag for her packet of tissues, searching all the little pockets and crevices to no avail. Hagrid pulled a tablecloth size handkerchief with a polka dot pattern out of his pocket, and handed it to her, "ere ye go, love. Is fresh washed an' all." Hermione smiled and took the hanky from the kind half giant – sure enough, it smelled like pine washing powder, which reminded her of a particular fellow. "Now, whas wi' the tears, 'Mione? Get a bad test result? Out o' sausages fer breakfast ? Merlin knows thas somethin' to be v'ry upset over!" he laughed like a hollow drum. Hermione shook her head, managing a small smile, "no, Hagrid it's just – um, it's just that I have an important Defence Against the Dark Arts test today, and I feel like I'm underprepared." Hagrid chuckled kindly, "save 'Mione for worryin' bout a lil class test! Ah sure, you'll do fine, sure yer the brightest witch o' yer age! Don' worry bout nothing.' But, if you wan' te com' o'er for tea later on, to relax, maybe at around six? Take yer mind off it? There'll be my special rock cakes! Fresh made dis mornin'!"Now, Merlin knows that Hagrid was not blessed with the culinary skills of a Michelin star chef, and that his rock cakes were quite literally like rocks from the moon, but Hermione was feeling so miserable that the closest people to her had forgotten her birthday, that she couldn't turn him down. Besides, he was good at brewing tea! She told him she'd be there, to which Hagrid responded by giving her a big hug and wishing her luck in her test – not that she needed it, anyway!

When she got to the library, Hermione grabbed her books out of her bag and got stuck in straight away. Yet, the words flew aimlessly before her eyes – Harry's indifference and Ron's cluelessness stood out in her brain, blocking all knowledge. Well, she focused more on Ron. At least Harry, despite his coldness, hadn't been half as bad – he had been studying, and seemed rather stressed. What was Ron's excuse? Not enough bacon in his sandwich? Digging her nails into the binding of her Arthimancy book, which happened to be upside down, Hermione bit her lip to keep her tears at bay. They'd forgotten her birthday – at least her parents had sent their love. They hadn't forgotten, plus, gifts didn't matter – it was recognition. Her two closest friends in the whole world had just shown how loyal they were – well, to hell with them! No more wizard chess with Ron late at night! No more helping Harry with his potions homework! Somehow, she knew she was overreacting, that it may have just slipped their minds, that it was no big deal, but Harry and Ron were Hermione's first real friends; the fact that they accepted her for the geeky, bushy haired, bossy boots that she was meant a lot to her. That they remained so oblivious on this very day snapped her heart like Ron's old wand.

That night at ten to six, Hermione headed over to Hagrid's hut. She was looking forward to having somebody to talk to, and she really needed a cup of tea. Ron had been right about the test; it had been easy, at least for Hermione. She had kept her head down all day, not taking any notice of the two knuckleheads she called her best friends. Ron had a few times gazed at her apologetically, but she kept her distance – she just couldn't bear to look at him, at least not today.  
Feeling sad, but at the same time tolerant, Hermione knocked on Hagrid's door. As she waited, she noticed that all the lights in the hut were out – why was that, she wondered? A needle of panic ran through her heart and into her stomach; was Hagrid alright? She knocked again, this time with urgency, "Hagrid, it's me, Hermione. Are you ok?" There was a mighty creak, as Hagrid got up from his armchair to unlock the door. There was an even mightier sneeze – Ron's sneeze! Followed by a dull thump and muffled ouch! And a few hushes. What on earth was going on? Why was Ron in the hut, sneezing, and being thumped for the aforementioned sneeze? So many questions ran through the young witches mind – she made a mental note to remind herself not to think too much.  
Then, the door opened, Hagrid's two bright beetle like eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Ah, 'Mione! Com' on in fer yerself," he stepped out onto the grass so she would be able to get through the doorway. It was quiet, but a quiet of a false sense, as if there was a budding tension, like the calm before a storm.

All at once, the lights came on! Next to Hermione stood Dumbledore, donned in a party hat and novelty tie, holding his deluminator with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Before Hermione could question him about the purple and yellow striped tie, there was a resounding "happy birthday, Hermione!"  
Hermione glanced around the packed cabin, amazed to see the whole of Year Four, Fred, George, Percy, Ginny and Dean crammed into the tiny space. Ron, who wore a horribly clashing russet and green tie crookedly over a wrinkled shirt, came over and grabbed Hermione in a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her, placing his chin atop her mess of hair. "You don't really think we'd forgotten, did you?" Tears welled in her eyes as Hermione rested her head on Ron's shoulder – how stupid had she been? How selfish and unfair to think her two friends had forgotten – Harry would never forget, and, an emotionless teaspoon he may be, Ron wasn't mean enough to forget her birthday. Hermione was so overjoyed at the surprise, and so overwhelmed by the whistles and Fred and George chanting "'Mione! 'Mione! 'Mione!" that she did not hear something that Ron had whispered into her ear. "What?" she said. "I'll tell you later" he replied, "now; show me how muggles celebrate their birthday!"

After the party, Hermione was sitting in the common room by the fire with only Crookshanks for company, reading "Wuthering Heights" (which Ginny had gotten her, from the muggle section in Flourish & Blotts). She had read it numerous times before, but she loved it so, and there she sat, reading:  
 _..."my love for Heathcliff is like the eternal rocks beneath ... not because he is handsome, but because he is more I than I am ... Nelly, I_ am _Heathcliff!"_  
There was a knock on the doorframe leading up to the boy's dorms. Startled Hermione looked up from her book to see Ron, in his Chudley Cannon t-shirt and fat-man pants, ready for bed. "Did you enjoy your birthday then, 'Mione?" Smiling contentedly, Hermione placed the book face down on the coffee table, "it was perfect. How'd you guys know I wanted a simple, muggle party?"  
"Well, it was my idea to throw the surprise party, and Ginny's idea to make it a muggle one – Harry wrote to your mom and dad to send your present early so it'd be a surprise, and to send balloons and whatever them stringy things are –"  
"- party streamers, Ronald."  
"Erm, yeah. Them. So they did that, and they lied saying they forgot to send it, and Harry told me to pretend to have forgotten. I hated lying to you, especially on your birthday. That's why I got ticked off, 'cause I was angry at myself. I'm sorry I was so rude to you, Hermione, I'm sorry if I ruined your bir-"  
Hermione strode over to the stammering Ron, planted a kiss on his cheek, hugged him and held him arms length way by the shoulders. "You may have ruined the start of my birthday by being a git, but I also overreacted and behaved selfishly. You had a big surprise planned. You redeemed yourself. Thank you for the best birthday present I have ever received."  
Ron smiled bashfully. "Even better than "Withering Hedges?" and that huge book by Willem Shokespare that your parents sent – along with sugar free sweets?"  
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's mispronunciations, "yes, Ronald, because it was straight from the heart." She gave him another quick hug, and beckoned Crookshanks. "I'm off to bed now, see you in the morning." She turned to go up the stairs, leaving Ron standing there with his arms loosely crossed. She stopped four steps up, "Ron?"  
"yeah?"  
"What did you tell me earlier that I couldn't hear?"  
The glow of the fire hid the redness of his face. "Nothing, just said I'm sorry."  
"Oh," whispered Hermione in a monotone, then perking up, "you were right about that test by the way. And I'm sorry for being a right, erm – b word, this morning."  
"S'okay, don't worry about it. And I told you so!"  
"Night."  
"G'night."

***  
It was at five that morning, when the coals in the fireplace were mere dregs of what they had been, and the birds twittered merrily in the trees, that Ron Weasley got to bed that night. He'd stayed up all night, reading "Wuthering Heights," from cover to cover, enthralled. He left the book where she had left it, on the pages in which Cathy told Nelly Dean of her love for Heathcliff, on the exact spot on the mahogany coffee table. He crept under the blankets even redder than his hair, rolling the three words around in his mouth, those words she had not heard the night before.  
He fell asleep, repeating the words over again until he felt the warmth of the sun break open his eyelids once more


End file.
